


Pi

by LivetoDream333 (orphan_account)



Series: Double-O Drabbles [14]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: A half-missing pinky, Attempted Amputation, Established Relationship, He broke, How to torture James Bond, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of torture, M/M, Pi, Silent support, Torture, Triggers, sorry - Freeform, sucks to be Q
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 21:02:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1579442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/LivetoDream333
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James knew that Q knew exactly eight-hundred-and-fifteen digits of pi before he started calculating each number, the concentration clear between his brows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pi

**Author's Note:**

> Triggers for lots of different reasons, if you don't like burns or waterboarding or whippings or cutting or slicing of flesh or attempted amputation...don't read...  
> I know...I'm evil. Sorry.

Pi

 

James woke up and blinked blearily, trying to wake himself up. He looked around the dimly lit room and moved slightly. He was chained down to a chair and the chain was attached to the floor, at least they weren’t amateurs. Another chair was empty ten feet in front of him and a hook hung from the ceiling in-between the two seats. “Good afternoon, James.” A man stated, his voice thick with a Hungarian accent.

“Good afternoon.” James said, straightening himself up and smiling at him, calm, collected.

“Look at you…already getting around for the inevitable torture that is going to come your way. The rumors were correct about you.”

“Oh, they’re telling stories now?”

“Laughing through tortures, criticizing techniques, never breaking…yes, they tell stories about you.”

“Lovely. Want to skip this next part then?” James smirked.

“See, I know the stories…so I know it will take me a while to break you…but then again I’ve got another idea. See there are other stories about your loyalty and your need to protect people…maybe I can get you to talk after all.”

“I wish you luck finding someone I actually care about in this country.” James scoffed.

“You see, that’s what I thought, but then a British man touched down three days after you, bringing some things with him, obviously items for you to use on assignment. Poor thing struggled too, killed four of my men before we captured him. I figure you may be loyal to one of your own.” He said before nodding towards someone over James’ shoulder. A body was dragged across the floor and put down on the chair, their limbs were bound heavily, but they didn’t bother tying the body to the chair. Cold water was dumped over the masked man’s head and he jolted awake. They pulled off the bag and James didn’t react at all when he saw Q, beaten and bruised, shivering under the influence of cold water. James wanted to scream, to yell, to fight, that was his Quartermaster…that was his lover…his friend…his partner… Q was everything. “One of your own… Tell us your name, boy.”

“Robert Daniels.” Q muttered, glaring up at him, but James could tell that he was having trouble seeing without his glasses.

“You work for MI6.”

“Obviously.” Q rolled his eyes.

“Do you know my dear Robert, Mr. Bond?”

“Never met him before.”

“Really?” He asked with a smirk.

“Lot of Q-Branch techs, hard to meet them all.” James responded.

“So you wouldn’t care if we killed him now? No need to hurt a poor little underling, really.” The man said, placing the gun to Q’s temple. Q didn’t move, but James could see a slight bit of tension in his shoulders, no one who didn’t know him would notice the change.

The man wasn’t bluffing.

“Don’t…” James relented after a moment.

“How does it feel to know a double-o’s noticed you, Robbie?”

“Technically speaking, it’s terrible.”

“That’s why you work in Q-Branch, my dear…so smart.” He yanked Q up and hung him up on the ceiling in such a way that he couldn’t possibly get enough leverage to pull himself off of the hook, his feet barely touching the ground. At five feet, it was obvious Q could actually see him now. Someone set out to cut the shirt off of Q’s torso and Q huffed in annoyance. “Mr. Bond, we can keep your man along for a very long time and every time you resist he’ll break just a little more. I realize that he probably has some knowledge of how to deal with torture…but how long do you think it will take me to break him? Look at him, he’s tiny.”

“Can we please stop talking? We know where this is going and he’s bloody well not going to talk over me, so please just do your worst and get this over with.” Q commented.

“You shouldn’t be eager… You killed my men, I don’t take that lightly.”

“Well, they shouldn’t have snuck up on me.” They took a whip to his back first. Q kept his eyes closed and James could see Q muttering something under his breath, silent. James could read the numbers on Q’s lips.

_3 . 1 4 1 5 9 2 6 5 3 5 8 9 7 9 3 2 3 8 4 6 2 6 4 3 3 8 3 2 7 9 5 0 2 8 8 4 1 9 7 1 6 9 3…_

Q was reciting pi…James wondered how many digits Q knew or if he was calculating them in his head as he went along, probably calculating after he got through what he had memorized if James had to guess. James couldn’t hear the words though all he heard was the crack of a whip and the sound of flesh tearing occasionally. Q didn’t scream, didn’t even whimper, even if his face did show bits of pain.

 _9 9 3 7 5 1 0 5_ 8 2 0 9 7 4 9 4 4 5 9 2 3 0 7 8 1 6 4 0 6 2 8 6 2 0 8 9 9 8 6 2 8…

It was wrong, all wrong. Every agent knew that if Q was ever put into danger it was their job to do whatever it took to protect him, to send him back home, to keep him from enemies. Q wasn’t supposed to suffer for his agents…his agents were supposed to live and die for him, especially in situations like this…but if he protested…they might just kill Q…might hurt him worse.

_0 3 4 8 2 5 3 4 2 1 1 7 0 6 7 9 8 2 1 4 8 0 8 6 5 1 3 2 8 2 3 0 6 6 4 7 0 9 3 8 4 4 6 0 9 5 5 0 5 8 2 2 3 1 7 2 5 3 5 9 4 0 8 1 2 8 4 8 1 1 1 7 4 5 0 2 8 4 1 0 2 7 0 1 9 3…_

“You’re a quiet one, aren’t you, Robert? Ten lashes for each dead man…you’re only half way through…but I think we’ll move on…come back when I want to… Let’s make sure you remember why we’re doing this first, hmm?” James kept count of the numbers Q recited…if Q could keep his mind occupied, so could James. “What are you mumbling?”

“Nothing your idiotic brains could comprehend.” Q quipped.

 _Don’t fucking do that Q…_ The man slapped him across the face.

“Truth hurts, doesn’t it?” Q rolled his eyes and continued counting.

“They keep smart asses in Q-Branch then? I sort of like it, the ones without spunk are no fun to break.” He chuckled walking behind James, out of sight. Q closed his eyes for a minute before blinking in quick succession. Morse code.

Alright? 

You’re asking me that?

Sitrep, 007.

Fine…bruised, possible concussion, furious.

Two days…just two days, they’ll be here to get me out and you as well. 

Can you hold out two days?

Stronger than I look. They fucking took my glasses, I’ll kill them for that.James almost laughed. Don’t say a word to them, don’t ask them to stop…don’t do anything… Poker face, 007. Q started counting again _. 7 2 4 5 8 7 0 0 6 6 0 6 3 1 5 5 8 8 1 7 4 8 8 1 5 2 0 9 2 0 9 6 2 8 2 9 2 5 4 0 9 1 7 1 5 3 6 4 3 6 7 8 9 2 5 9 0 3 6 0 0 1 1 3 3 0 5 3 0 5 4 8 8 2 0 4 6 6 5 2 1 3 8 4 1_ …

“What’s his number, Robert?”

“What?” Q asked.

“Mr. Bond, what is his number?”

“007.” _4 6 9 5 1 9 4 1 5 1 1_ …

“We’ll start there then won’t we?” He asked lifting a glowing piece of metal. “Hold him still.” Q closed his eyes as two men grabbed ahold of him.

 _6 0 9 4 3 3 0 5 7 2 7 0 3 6 5_ — “FUCK!” Q shouted as the hot metal met his abdomen and began burning into his flesh. “7 5 9 5 9 1 9 5 3 0 9 2 1 8 6 1 1 7 3 8 1 9…” Q said aloud, getting his breath, squirming in his binds, instinctually trying to get away from the rod that was burning his flesh. James tried to keep track of the number Q was on, rather than the smell of burning flesh hitting his nostrils. “3 2 6 1 1 7 9 3 1 0 5 1 1 8 5 4 8 0 7 4 4 6 2 3 7 9 9 6 2 7 4 9 5 6 7 3 5 1 8 8 5…”

Two-hundred and sixty digits that James had counted.

“First one down…” He lifted the rod, revealing a perfect 0 just over Q’s belly button burned into his skin, practically glowing against white flesh. “What are you counting?”

Q didn’t answer, but his counting went silent again, controlled. _7 5 2 7 2 4 8 9 1 2 2 7 9 3 8 1 8 3 0 1 1 9 4 9 1 2 9 8 3 3 6 7 3 3 6 2 4 4 0 6 5 6 6 4…_

That only seemed to make the man more furious and he burned the next to digits slower and more painfully. Q didn’t falter, other than trying to pull away from the hot metal.

007 was burned forever into Q’s torso, glowing and blistered…stretching from nearly his belly button almost to his right nipple

       7

   0

0

The Quartermaster wasn’t supposed to have scars… James was furious that anyone would dare to put a mark on Q…and he was angry that it was his fault, perhaps more angry with himself than the torturers.

Q revived twenty more lashes before they started taking a knife to his flesh, shallow, but painful gashes painted along his skin.

James knew that Q knew exactly eight-hundred-and-fifteen digits of pi before he started calculating each number, the concentration clear between his brows.

800Q8

Q groaned quietly when they left, leaving him tied down to the chair. “Couldn’t possibly have a cushion or a damn cuppa could you?” Q asked, trying not to hurt his back or his torso.

“I—” Q’s eyes snapped up to meet his and glared at him, the kind of glare that meant: Do shut up, Bond.

I’m sorry…

Not your fault. I should have known. Something wasn’t right… Had I been smarter we’d both be on the way home.

Q…I…

I’m alright, 007, don’t worry. Only two more days, keep a stoic face on, won’t you? Can’t have you showing that you care about me. Might give away who I am and make them more vicious.

Alright… 

800Q8

The next day Q started off where he had left off in PI, the one-thousand-two-hundred-and-sixty-seventh digit in pi.

The next day, Q screamed.

He didn’t scream when they whipped him again or when they rubbed salt in his cuts—they were barbarically fond of the burn though and made sure nothing could mar it or keep it from scarring just the way it was—no, Q screamed when they forced his head back, pulling back on his neck by the towel that covered his face and poured icy water over his face. He screamed and fought and tried to pull away…but he couldn’t get away.

They looked at James for a reaction…and James barely kept himself composed… He remembered the last time he’d been tortured… He’d been in absolute agony, but Q was in his ear, speaking softly, calmly. Q had held it together for him—James was sure Q was watching him as they pulled together a rescue team. Q had been calm and supportive for him…he’d do the same…it was all he had left to give.

When they left the second day… Q took a few calm breaths before he looked up at James. He looked horrible, soaked and freezing cold, his lips slightly blue, some of his wounds looking like they could be infected, he looked tired and broken, but his eyes were still calm, steady, unbroken, even if everything looked frail…

Alright?

Hurts like hell… I’m fine.

Q… Is there anything I can…? Do and Say went unsaid.

Yeah…don’t fucking break before I do. 

You won’t break…will you?

Not likely…not unless they get smart.

800Q8

After the three-thousand-eight-hundred-and-sixteenth digit of pi (Q calculated it as being a one), they got smart. A man entered the room and whispered a short sentence to Q’s torturer, nodding at Q. “Is that a fact?”

“Came from the agent himself.” That, Q and James heard.

“Morse code is a bit outdated isn’t it, Quartermaster?”

Q squeezed his eyes shut.

“My name is Robert Daniels, I’m just a tech. I work for Q though.”

“Don’t bother lying, Quartermaster… No wonder why our dear James hasn’t said anything. He’s being ordered not to… Since when do they send branch-heads into the field?” He scoffed before he nodded and Q was pulled off of the hook (he would have collapsed had someone not been holding him), his legs and torso chained to the chair again, his arms shockingly freed. James didn’t understand…Q did.

“I’m not doing anything for you.” Q snapped.

“I never said that…but I think we’ve been approaching this all wrong.” A table was brought into the room and the torturer seized Q’s arm. “One of you will talk…will it be fear or loyalty that talks first?” Someone pressed Q’s wrist down on the table harshly, pinning it and strapping it down, Q struggling fruitlessly.

“No, don’t—” For the first time, Q was pleading and his eyes shimmered with tears of fear. James didn’t understand until he saw Q clutching his fist as tightly as humanly possible.

He was weak and they unrolled his pinky finger and the torturer took up a serrated blade that looked slightly dull…more painful.

“Already begging. If I don’t get what I want, one by one the dear Quartermaster will start losing his fingers and when all of them are gone we’ll cut them off at the wrists. How many bits do you want your Quartermaster to be in, 007? I promise…we’ll ship them back to MI6.” He reached started sawing on Q’s pinky, slow, painfully.

“No! No, no, no! Stop! Stop!!” Q screamed, trying to pull away.

“Stop, stop, I’ll tell you whatever you want, just stop.” James said, his voice shaking. Blood was gushing from Q’s pinky. The man didn’t stop.

“Stop! P-please…”

James had kept his promise…he’d broke after Q had.

“STOP! Anything you want! I’ll give it to you, just stop!” The man pulled away, Q’s pinky was sliced all the way to the bone…and then a little bit more, a slight notch in the bone left over, if only James could see his bone through the blood.

“I want the access code, now, or I’ll take three fingers for good measure.” He snapped as Q sobbed quietly, in relief or agony or fear, James couldn’t know.

“387—” A silenced gun went off several times and all of the hostiles dropped dead.

“Q, 007, sitrep?” Alec demanded, rushing into the room, working to get Q untied.

“I’m fine, Q’s badly beaten, three burns, four-hundred-twenty-two cuts—thirty will need stitches, forty-eight lashes, four broken bones, nearly missing pinky, several infections possible, down two pints of blood, and suffering from dehydration and hypothermia.” James had kept count of more than just how many numbers Q knew of pi.

“Help me carry him out…” Alec said as he freed James. “I can’t shoot and carry him, not without hurting him.”

“I’ve got him…”

800Q8

“James?” Q asked, looking up at the man at his side as soon as he could see through the blurriness of post—medically induced—coma exhaustion. Someone had put on his glasses.

“I’m sorry, Q…” James whispered.

“I’m alright.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m on drugs and I can’t lie for shit. I feel fine.”

“I got you hurt…”

“They would have caught me whether or not you were caught first… If anything you saved me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“They would have killed me, James…and I wouldn’t have lasted so long had you not been there.”

“What—?”

“Q’s got to be calm for his agents, doesn’t he? It’s part of the job. Besides…I know you wouldn’t have been able to take it if I…”

“Q…”

“You stayed with me?” Q interrupted with a small smile.

“Of course. I’ll stay until you send me away.”

“Not sending you anywhere…” Q sighed. “How’s my pinky?”

“Fine…they glued it back together.”

“Lovely.” Q smiled sleepily.

“I’m so sorry, my love.” James whispered, kissing Q’s forehead.

“It’s okay…stay with me?”

“Always…”

“When I get better, can we have a week off…? Just you and me?”

“We’ll take the rest of the bloody year off, Q. Whatever you want.” James promised.

“Don’t leave me. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I won’t leave you.”

“You won’t believe me either.”

“Nope…” James smiled.

“Love you, James.” Q said, feeling drowsy, feeling a heavy weight settle above his chest.

“Love you, Gabriel…try to rest, you need it.” James whispered, stroking Q’s hair gently, kissing his forehead.

“Stay…”

“I’m not going anywhere.” James promised, sitting back in his chair, holding onto Q’s hand lightly as the brunet fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Much Love.


End file.
